


A Win-Win Situation

by Sestra_Prior



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Humor, M/M, Parody, Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-16
Updated: 2006-05-16
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sestra_Prior/pseuds/Sestra_Prior
Summary: Harry becomes an unwilling landlord.  Then his new tenant makes a bet with him.  Will Harry win?  Does he want to?  Harry is late teenaged - and over the age of consent in the UK.





	

Beta-ed by RaeWhit….many thanks, my friend.

**A Win-win Situation**

Harry felt his mind beginning to drift, and desperately attempted to shut down his imagination before it could supply him with yet another fantasy that involved… _him_.

It was irrational, inexcusable, and mind-bogglingly awful that somehow he had developed a crush on Lucius Malfoy. Ever since the man had walked blatantly through the front door of number twelve and offered himself to the Order, he had taken up residence in Harry’s fevered dreams of sexual gratification.

He was stood now, lecturing to the assembled Order members about some aspect of Voldemort’s security arrangements… Harry knew he should be paying attention, but his mind was determined to fix on the play of light on Lucius’ hair as the man strode about the room. Or the way his muscles moved beneath the shirt he had revealed when he had removed his jacket as the temperature in the room rose. The soft, aristocratic voice that issued from between those lips…those lips that Harry had spent countless sleepless nights dreaming about. Dreaming about them being pressed to his, dreaming about them stretched about his cock….

“Oh, Lucius…”

He only realised he must have said the words aloud when heads began to turn in his direction. Lucius had stopped speaking and was looking at him curiously.

“Yes, Mister Potter? Did you have something to contribute?”

Harry was sure his consternation must have been painted in vivid Technicolor on his face. “Ah, no. Erm,” he began to prevaricate, “just thinking that…maybe we could have a break?” He pretended a yawn and stretched, grinning around at the Phoenix members.

There was a muted sound of agreement from those assembled; Lucius glanced at the slim gold watch that graced his wrist. “Well, perhaps…fifteen minutes then. After all, we have been here for two hours.”

The Order members began to get to their feet and leave the room, in search of sustenance or a loo. Harry was about to make his escape when he was pulled up short.

“A word, Mister Potter, if I may?”

He halted and turned back to Lucius. “Yes?”

Lucius waited until the last person had left the room, then moved to the door and shut it firmly, before turning and leaning back against it, his arms folded across his chest.

“I know you don’t trust me, Mister Potter, but I do think that by now you would have shed _some_ of your animosity toward me,” he stated baldly.

“It’s not that…” Harry began, before he was interrupted by the voice in his head…. _Shut up! Don’t disagree with him, he’ll only_ ….

“So, what _is_ it then, Mister Potter?” Lucius’ tone was curious.

 _See! I told you so…now you have to think of something_ … “Well,” Harry began, his eyes fixed on Malfoy’s boots, “actually, I suppose it is that,” he said, contradicting his earlier declaration. He fumbled wildly through his brain, trying to come up with something convincing. “It’s just that it’s very hard to forget that you were my enemy for a long time…and that you were Voldemort’s right-hand man…and I know you have been here for three months now…only it’s going to take me a while…” he trailed off.

Lucius regarded him steadily. “I see,” he said succinctly. He straightened himself from his lounge against the door and stalked towards Harry. A humourless smile creased the corners of his mouth. He bent down so that his face was level with Harry’s; his lips nearly close enough to kiss. “You, Mister Potter, are a very bad liar. I _will_ find out what is going on in that head of yours, never doubt it. You would do well to remember that I am a skilled Legilimens.”

Harry’s eyes flew to meet Lucius’ cold grey ones and he swallowed hard at the proximity of the man. “Really, there is nothing else.” He shook his head, unsure whether the action would lend to his words or make a lie of them.

Lucius gaze was penetrating. “Indeed? Well, we shall see what we shall see.”

 _Oh God!_ Harry thought. _If Lucius should ever see what’s in my mind_ …

His face flamed as he recalled one of his most recent fantasies featuring père Malfoy, the one that involved some very dubious leather items and a very authoritarian Lucius….

Harry had to wonder where such flights of fancy came from. He had never had such wild, abandoned, wanton, _perverted_ thoughts before; maybe it was just Lucius…that powerful, _dominant_ persona…that _strict_ , no-nonsense attitude.

Harry pulled himself up sharply, fearing that if he blushed any harder his face would explode. He was saved by the return of Tonks and Remus, and under cover of their arrival, managed to slip out of the room and dart upstairs to his bedroom. He had five minutes to compose himself…for “compose”, read, “take himself in hand”. He had been amazed that he had managed to create an erection; he was sure that the majority of the blood in his body had made its way to his face during the course of that extremely embarrassing interview with Lucius.

It didn’t take much, just three swift stokes and he came with a muted “aaah”, then he had just enough time to cast a _Quickclean_ Spell, stuff his cock back into his trousers and race back downstairs.

 

****

 

Maybe, Harry thought to himself later, whilst lying on his bed in the safe privacy of his room, if Ginny would put out, then he wouldn’t have to resort to dreaming up wicked fantasies involving Lucius, but the dratted girl had suddenly gone very coy, and Harry had been terrified to hear the words “marriage” and “virgin” bandied about in the same sentence. Well, if Ginny expected Harry to marry her…then she was going to remain a virgin for a long time. Unfortunately, at the same time, and as a consequence, it seemed that Harry would also remain a virgin for a very long time. Harry admitted to himself that even three months ago he may well have been prepared to marry Ginny…might have even looked forward to the ceremony. But something had happened…correction; _someone_ had happened…and spoilt it all.

Harry was unsure _how_ it had happened. He had no recollection of a “road to Damascus” type revelation that he had the hots for Lucius. He didn’t wake up one morning and suddenly think, _Merlin, I wish Lucius Malfoy would screw me_. The fact that nowadays he actually _did_ wake up every morning and think, _Merlin, I wish Lucius Malfoy would screw me_ , was beside the point, as was the fact that the thought was usually accompanied by a lurid fantasy sex scene and some brisk hand manipulation.

No, he honestly couldn’t say when he first realised he had… _feelings_ for Lucius; although actually, maybe it would be more accurate to describe them as feelings _about_ Lucius, he just hoped that they would soon go away. Having a crush on a _man_ , old enough to be one’s father, was bad enough: much less the fact that said man had been married; was an ex-Death Eater; was the father of his all-time worst enemy (barring Voldemort – it goes without saying) and was an all-round sarcastic, nasty bastard. And drop dead gorgeous.

Perhaps he could wheedle a pity/friendship fuck out of Hermione? After all, surely she wouldn’t want him to die a virgin? He didn’t suppose that Ron would be all that impressed though…unless he asked Ron to…Harry’s brain went into emergency shut-down, refusing point-blank to allow Harry to even think about thinking about the thought of….

No, he would just have to weather the storm of his teenage hormones, and hope that he got over his infatuation soon and that things would return to normal.

They didn’t.

The god whose job it was to take care of the “if you wish for something hard enough it may well happen” adage, was on an extended leave of absence due to overwork, and his job was currently being deputised by the “if you want something badly enough the _opposite_ is bound to happen” god…undeniably a monumental bollocks-up at the temp agency.

The result of the aforementioned bollocks-up was that Harry walked down to breakfast a few days later to discover consternation in the kitchen.

“What’s happened?” he demanded, seating himself at the table and starting to pile sausages onto his plate.

Remus Lupin (who could usually be found scrounging breakfast at number twelve, owing to the fact that Nymphadora, having decided that his love handles were starting to look as if they belonged on a large school trunk, had begun presenting him with a small bowl of muesli and a pro-biotic yogurt for breakfast, instead of his usual three rashers of bacon, two sausages, fried egg, black pudding and fried bread), tossed him a copy of the _Prophet_.

A picture of a large burning building crackled away merrily on the front. Harry gasped as he read the headline, “Malfoy Manor goes up in Smoke”. “Oh gods, Lucius isn’t…he’s all right isn’t he?” He felt a surge of horror run through his body; having scampered along all his extremities, it ended up pooled uncomfortably in his stomach

“Lucius is fine, thank you for your concern, Mister Potter. Although he does have cause to thank one of his distant ancestors who saw fit to construct a hidden passageway from the master suite to a remote folly in the grounds…for what purpose, I can’t imagine,” Lucius added idly. He had entered the kitchen silently behind Harry and now seated himself at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. He curled a lip at the vast pile of food on Lupin’s plate. “Whilst Harry is a growing boy and thus needs the energy, I cannot imagine what _your_ excuse for such a mountain of food might be, Lupin…unless of course you are eating for two…oh, pardon me, of course you are…you and your wolf!” He smirked evilly.

Lupin glowered at Lucius, but as his mouth was currently full of black pudding, refrained from actual comment.

“Besides,” Lucius went on, “hasn’t my niece placed you on a diet? I’m sure she would be rather angry to find out that you were sneaking behind her back and coming here to partake of Molly Weasley’s rather sumptuous, delicious breakfasts.” 

Molly herself simpered at Lucius’ words, but flicked him with the end of a tea towel. “Stop teasing Remus, Lucius. How that girl can expect a grown man to survive on rabbit food and curdled milk is beyond me.” She sat down at the end of the table next to Kingsley Shaklebolt, who could also be found at number twelve most mornings when his job permitted.

“So we thought, Harry, that now that Lucius is homeless, you could put him up here?”

Harry chocked on his sausage. “What?” he demanded. “No. I don’t think that would be a good idea at all.”

“Why ever not?” Molly asked.

 _Why ever not?_ Harry’s inner voice asked desperately. _I’ll tell you why not, woman. Because it would mean he would be sleeping here…in a bed…and not my bed (more’s the pity), and he would be walking about with few clothes on (hopefully) when he goes to and from the bathroom, and he would always be here and I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him, what about when we are alone here? What about_ …Harry’s brain had begun to gibber and he took a deep, steadying breath.

“Yes, why ever not?” Lucius echoed. “It’s not as if you don’t have plenty of room…or do you think you will be in some sort of danger from me?” He fixed Harry with a beady eye.

 _In danger from YOU?_ Harry’s mind sniggered. _Far more likely that YOU will be in danger from ME_.

“I’m just not sure if I could be… _comfortable_ with an ex-Death Eater in the house,” he said primly.

“The operative word is “ex”, Harry,” Shaklebolt pointed out. 

“You’ve got a wand – I’m sure you know how to use it.”

 _What? What had Lucius just said? That I know how to use my wand? You bet your gorgeous arse I do_. “Still, you have a wand as well.” _Ohgodohgodohgod…and wouldn’t I like to see it…and touch it…and have it thrust_ …. 

“Well, I’m sorry, Mister Potter, but if you are thinking of suggesting that I give my wand to you….”

 _Oooo, would you? What if I beg nicely?_ “Of course not.”

“Well, you could always cast a few locking spells on your bedroom door if you are that worried.” Lucius said reasonably. 

_What? And pass up on the opportunity that you may just stumble in there by accident one dark night?_ Harry huffed.

“Really, Harry, I do think you are being very unreasonable about this,” Molly admonished. “After all that Lucius has gone through…the loss of his wife and son…and now his house…all because he decided to change sides and support us. Really! If I can forgive him for what he’s done in the past, then I’m sure you should be able to.”

Remus, having cleared his plate, decided to enter the conversation. “In the end it is up to Harry, and no one will blame you, Harry, if you decide you don’t want Lucius.”

 _Want Lucius? Oh, yes please, I want him, I want him. Really_ , Harry thought, _this conversation is getting more bizarre by the minute_. “All right, he can stay,” he decided with ill grace.

Lucius smiled. “Why, thank you, Harry. That really is very kind of you. But if you really don’t want me…”

 _Haven’t I just said…?_ Harry was rapidly going off his sausages. “Look, I’ve said it’s okay, all right? Now let me eat my breakfast in peace!”

The kitchen gradually cleared as first Molly, and then Lupin and Kingsley, went off to their respective daily tasks. Lucius had stolen Lupin’s newspaper and was now deeply engrossed in the stocks and shares page, but as soon as the three had left, he put the paper down and leant back in his chair; fixing Harry with a penetrating stare he said, “Now that we are all alone, Harry, perhaps you would like to tell me what is really bothering you about my staying here.”

“I fancy the pants off you and don’t think I can keep my hands to myself,” Harry thought, before realising with horror that he had once again spoken his thoughts aloud. He buried his burning face in his hands. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” he mumbled.

“I’m having a slight problem believing it myself,” Lucius said dryly. “So, it’s _my_ bedroom door that will need to be locked at night then?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Harry said bitterly, hurt by Lucius’ obvious rejection of him. “I’ll try to resist pouncing on you from any dark corners.”

“Very wise,” Lucius said, idly examining his wand. “That would be a tad…risky.” He flicked an invisible bit of dust from the end of the ebony shaft that had replaced the snake-headed wand. “The last person who attempted to _pounce_ on me from out of a dark corner spent a month in St Mungo’s having his testicles re-attached. Still,” he went on, once more turning his attention to the newspaper, “I’m not entirely certain that your assurance does anything to assuage my worry that I will wake up one night and find your naked body in my bed.”

Harry was cross now. “God, you think you are sooo irresistible don’t you?” _He is, he is_ , his inner voice assured him.

“Don’t _you_?” Lucius asked mildly.

“I’ll have you know,” Harry said hotly, “that I am perfectly able to control myself, thank you very much!”

“Really?” Lucius raised one eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt it. This is _me_ we’re talking about. In fact, I’m prepared to bet that you can’t. Fancy it?”

 _What? Right here on the kitchen table? Yum, I’ll never be able to eat sausages here again_. “Fancy what?” Harry asked cautiously.

“A wager. I bet that you will be banging on my bedroom door within a week.”

“You’re on!”

Lucius got to his feet and came to lean over Harry’s shoulder. “You do realise that I’m going to make it very, very _hard_ for you, don’t you, Mister Potter?”

It already was. Harry stared ruefully into his lap at his obvious erection. Lucius had also noticed it. “This is going to be easier than I thought,” he whispered in Harry’s ear, before giving it quick lick with his hot tongue.

Harry nearly leapt out of his seat, and his cock nearly burst out of his trousers, so desperate was it to say _hello and welcome_ to Lucius.

“In the meantime,” Lucius went on smoothly, straightening up, “perhaps you would be good enough to show me to my bedroom?”

“Erm, fine, yes. You can have the room down the hall from mine. You can’t miss it, third door on the left.” Harry was determined not to have to get to his feet and further humiliate himself with his bulging jeans.

“Oh, do you think that’s wise, Harry? After all, I wouldn’t want to prove to be _too_ much of a temptation to you.” He sniggered.

“Fine, you can sleep in the bloody cellar then, for all I care!” 

“Ah, no. I think not. I had occasion, as a child, to be locked in the cellars here. The spiders down there are the stuff of nightmares. No, on reflection, I suppose I will just have to take my chances with you.”

_Oh, would you? Really? Please?_

Harry drew the _Prophet_ toward him, determined to make it plain to Lucius that he had no intention of showing the man to his room. To his relief, he heard Lucius walk to the door, and then held his breath when the footsteps halted. “En garde, Mister Potter. En garde”. Then the footsteps finally left the kitchen and Harry dropped his head onto the paper and groaned. 

 

****

 

The first day had been relatively free from event. Lucius had been busy purchasing new clothing and personal effects from Diagon Alley, and Harry had gone out with Ron and Hermione to follow up on a Horcrux lead, so they saw very little of each other until the evening. His two friends gone, Harry had retreated to his favourite chair in the library, where he was curled up reading a book on Quidditch, when Lucius entered the room.

Harry went immediately on his guard, but Lucius merely nodded at him and then went to peruse the shelves. The young wizard attempted to refocus on his book, but his mind…and eventually his eyes, were elsewhere. 

Lucius was dressed in a figure-hugging pair of black trousers, and a white shirt a New Romantic would have died for. Harry surreptitiously watched the man’s slim hands take down books, flick through a few pages and then put them back. Eventually he appeared to have found one to his liking and he came and sat down in the chair opposite to Harry.

 _Just crawl over there and onto his lap_ , the insidious voice inside Harry suggested.

Lucius raised his eyes to Harry’s and smirked. Harry had a moment of panic that he had spoken aloud again.

“Seen something you like, Harry?” Lucius asked in a voice that could have melted a glacier.

Harry opened his mouth to deny that he had been staring, but all that came out was a muted groan. _Seen something I like? Seen something I like?!_ Harry’s inner voice broke off, drooling.

Harry scowled and fixed his eyes firmly on his book.

“Well hung.”

 _What?!_ “What?”

“The curtains in here…they’re well hung, don’t you think?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever bothered to notice.” _Bloody hell_.

“You should, Harry. You should always take time to notice your surroundings.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” _How the hell am I supposed to notice my surroundings when you’re here? My eyes have a life of their own, as far as you’re concerned, and seem to think the main purpose of said life is to look at you_.

“What are you reading?”

Harry lifted his book up and showed Lucius the cover.

“Ah. Like a bit of _sport_ , do you?”

 _Why, are you offering?_ “You were at the World Cup, so I guess you like Quidditch as well.”

“All those _tight_ Quidditch trousers, those _leather_ gloves…I bet you were in heaven, weren’t you, Harry?”

“Actually _I_ went for the match.”

Lucius smirked at him.

There were a few minutes of silence and Harry had just begun to think about maybe relaxing…a bit.

“I haven’t thanked you properly for letting me stay with you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry grunted, wondering what this was a prelude to.

“You must let me express my appreciation.”

“It’s nothing, honestly. Mrs. Weasley was right, I have plenty of room.”

“Surely there is _something_ I can do for you? Hm?”

Harry gritted his teeth. _You mean apart from taking me to bed and screwing my arse off?_ “Okay, how about twenty Galleons a week?”

Lucius looked momentarily startled and Harry felt a small glow of triumph.

“Oh, fine. Yes, of course.”

The rest of the evening passed in silence until Harry finally put his book down, yawned and got to his feet. “Right, I’m off to bed. Goodnight.”

He started to the door, but Lucius called him back.

“Oh, Harry. I have a small gift for you.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a slim black book.

Harry walked hesitantly back to the older man and took the proffered volume. “Thank you, that’s very…” He glanced at the title, “ _101 Sexual Positions for Adventurous Wizards_ ”. His face flushed a fiery red and his eyes flew to Lucius’…that were sparkling with unabashed glee.

“Just a little bedtime reading, Harry. I thought you might find it of interest.” Lucius was grinning broadly now, his delight in Harry’s discomfort obvious.

Harry dragged his Gryffindor courage out from where it had been hiding. “Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, Lucius. I shall be sure to let you know how much I’ve enjoyed it.”

“I’m betting on it,” Lucius said from the top of the hole Harry had just fallen into. 

Harry took a deep breath…and strode from the room, Lucius’ laughter ringing in his ears. But he took the book with him.

 

****

 

**Day Two**

Grimmauld Place was a large, rambling building, but with Lucius a resident in it, it somehow seemed a lot smaller. Harry lost count of the times he met Lucius coming in the opposite direction down a passageway and, no matter how wide the corridor, Lucius always seemed to be able to squeeze against Harry as they passed.

A week ago Harry would have been delighted to have been pressed against Lucius Malfoy in a tight space…now he was ready to fly apart at the seams. A “face-to-face squeeze past” had at first seemed the best option, but feeling Lucius’ groin brushing over his own, whilst Lucius leered down at him, soon decided Harry that a “face-to-the-wall squeeze past” was perhaps safer. It most decidedly wasn’t. Lucius took great delight in sliding his body slowly over Harry’s arse, until Harry was nearly screaming in frustration. After one such encounter, he had stayed where he was, forehead pressed to the cooling wall, listening to Lucius’ retreating footsteps and trying to quell the burgeoning erection in his trousers. Even more humiliating…he was still there five minutes later when Lucius came back for a repeat performance.

This time the man stopped, and then pressed against Harry’s rear.

“Oh dear. Are you quite well, Mister Potter? You’ve gone very pale.”

 _It’s hardly surprising, is it? Given the amount of blood that seems to have rushed to my cock?_ “Yes, I’m quite well. Will you be in _all_ day?” Harry asked desperately. He swore he could _hear_ Lucius grinning.

“Why, looking for a little ‘private time’, Mister Potter?”

 _Only if you…?_ He blushed, thus relieving some of the pressure in his swollen organ. “No!…Only…I am going out myself very shortly,” he decided. Harry tried to remember where he had left his manners. “And I just wanted to make sure you would be all right on your own.”

“Oh, I’m a _big_ boy, Mister Potter. I’m sure I can _look after myself_.”

Harry groaned.

“Are you _sure_ there is nothing I can do for you, Harry?” Lucius purred, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder and leaning over the boy until his mouth was close to Harry’s ear. “Perhaps a _lie down_ would be better than _coming_ , sorry, _going_ out?” 

Harry made a supreme effort. Straightening, he ducked out from under Lucius’ hand and strode away as quickly as his erection would allow, calling back over his shoulder, “No, I’m fine. See you later.”

He went straight to Florean Fortsecue’s and ate his way through a huge dish of black cherry ice cream, in an effort to quench the fire raging in his trousers.

 

****

 

**Day Three**

 

It was the third morning, and Harry had emerged for breakfast to find Lucius already ensconced at the breakfast table with his customary cup of coffee, chatting to Fred, George and Charlie. He had slid into his seat, feeling Lucius’ amused gaze upon him, and helped himself to his own customary two sausages, three rashers of bacon and a fried egg. After five minutes he had begun to relax. Then he choked on his egg as a foot was placed firmly on his groin, the toes curling dexterously around his growing length.

“All right, Harry?” George asked in concern as Harry continued to cough.

Fred stood up and came to thump Harry on the back.

“Egg…down wrong way,” Harry managed to splutter, glaring across the table at Lucius with streaming eyes. So, the man was upping the ante. This didn’t bode well at all. Harry thought he could have coped a little longer with the innuendoes, with the insidious touches, but this…this blatant caressing of his privates….

Lucius got to his feet.

“Here’s your rent boy.”

Charlie Weasley had turned around with a startled, “Where?” before he realised that Lucius had merely forgotten a comma in a sentence he was addressing to Harry.

“Now, as entertaining as it is to watch you being _pounded_ by Fred, I really must be on my way.” Lucius dropped a small bag of Galleons onto the table beside the still-choking Harry. 

“How does he do it?” George queried after Lucius had left.

“Do what?” Harry managed to gasp.

“He can always tell us apart,” Fred supplied.

“Always.”

“Weird,” both twins said together.

 

****

 

**Day Four**

 

Harry wondered who had ever had the idea that the garment Lucius had just appeared in the library wearing could ever be considered suitable as a dressing gown.

Not for Malfoy a long, _modest_ gown, oh no. This little, black silk number with a silver snake embroidered on the back was positively…well, Harry decided prudishly, it was positively indecent! He had no doubt that should Lucius bend over, _please, go on, bend over. Here, let me drop something…preferably my trousers_ , then he would not have to use his imagination any more when wondering what Lucius’ cock would look like. 

“I do hope you don’t mind me in my dressing gown, Harry? Not too much for you, is it? “

Harry shook his head mutely, not daring to say anything, lest the voice in his head make a bid for freedom and say all the things he was trying so desperately not to say. He carefully arranged the book he was reading to cover his swiftly hardening prick and damned his teenage hormones.

Lucius seated himself in the leather armchair opposite to Harry. 

_His bum has to be naked on that seat_. 

Harry spent the next ten minutes alternately flicking desperately through his mental filing cabinets, searching for a reasonable excuse to explain the chair’s disappearance from the library and subsequent re-appearance in his bedroom, and wondering just how long it would be before Lucius did a “Basic Instinct”.

He was soon put out of his misery. Lucius nonchalantly crossed his legs…and Harry was treated to a splendid view of his…accoutrements. He couldn’t keep in the gasp of admiration, and Lucius glanced up from his book, a broad smile on his face.

“Godammit, Lucius, that’s just not fair!” Harry wailed.

“Oh, pardon me.” Lucius slowly uncrossed his legs, but now the…the dressing gown, _more like an UN-dressing gown_ , had fallen open over Lucius’ lap, giving Harry an even better view of Lucius’ cock, which began to take an interest in its surroundings.

Harry felt like a rat trying to face down a snake…albeit a one-eyed snake. On the one hand, it held an almost fatal fascination that Harry had a hard time ignoring. On the other hand, he wanted to run away as fast as possible. 

_Why? You’re getting what you wanted_ , his inner voice argued; _a clear, unimpeded look at the Luscious Lucius’ Cock_. 

Harry suddenly noticed that Lucius had put down his book and was watching the emotions play across Harry’s face with a wicked grin.

“Go on, Harry. Give in…you know you want to.”

If there was one thing that Lucius shouldn’t have said…that was it.

Harry never gave in…never. Even when faced with such a lapful of treasure.

“Give in, Mr. Malfoy? Oh no, I don’t think so. Now do cover yourself up…you wouldn’t want to catch a chill.” He lifted up his book so it effectively blocked the sight of Lucius’ genitals, and behind its screen, Harry closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

 

****

 

**Day Five**

And Harry began to think he might just do this. But then, he hadn’t learned not to underestimate a Malfoy on the hunt.

Once again he managed to absent himself from the house for most of the day. Lucius had already had his breakfast by the time Harry emerged downstairs, and he was able to eat breakfast in peace and quiet with only Shaklebolt for company, Remus having been found out by an outraged Tonks.

So Harry spent a pleasant day with Hermione and Ron. They drifted in and out of the shops along Diagon Alley, stopping off at Fortsecue’s for ice cream.

“How are you getting on with Mr. Malfoy, Harry?” Hermione enquired, dropping her spoon with a rattle into her empty knickerbocker-glory glass. 

Harry shrugged. “Okay, I suppose.” He swirled the last of his black cherry ice cream around his bowl, thinking that he would never taste the stuff again without thinking of Lucius.

“It’s very kind of you to put him up.”

 _‘Put up with him’ would be a more accurate description_. “Well, I couldn’t very well put him out on the street, could I?” _And miss out on all those delicious things he is doing to push me into banging…don’t mention “banging”, please don’t mention “banging”…on his bedroom door_.

“Course you could, mate,” Ron said through a mouthful of raspberry ripple and waifer. “Let the arrogant bastard find his own place to kip.”

Hermione made a moue of distaste at Ron’s appalling lack of table manners.

“He’s not that bad, really,” Harry found himself saying.

“Still,” Hermione went on, “it’s very kind of you. I’m sure he appreciates it.”

 _Oh, he appreciates it all right. He appreciates every opportunity he gets to tease me, tempt me and drive me insane with lust… I wonder if one could actually die from frustrated lust?_ Harry frowned.

The ever-observant Hermione noticed. “Is something wrong, Harry?”

With a supreme effort, Harry dragged his thoughts away from the contemplation of his demise from frustrated lust and beamed a smile at his friend. “I’m fine, Hermione. Just peachy. Now, didn’t you want to go to Madam Malkin’s for some new robes?”

Ron groaned. “Merlin, Harry, did you have to remind her? Now we are going to be stuck in there for the rest of the day while ‘Mione tries on every robe in the place.”

Hermione good-naturedly gave Ron a punch on the arm that Fred and George would have been proud of.

 

****

Later that evening, Harry vacillated between hiding out in his bedroom and taking up residence in his favourite chair in the library. He had to admit that he was actually starting to quite enjoy the challenge of resisting Lucius’ charms, which isn’t to say he wouldn’t have jumped into bed with the man at the first crook of a certain aristocratic finger if he hadn’t been trying to win the bet.

He decided on the library, determined that Lucius wasn’t going to drive him into hiding, and Lucius joined him fifteen minutes after he had lit the fire, seated himself, and picked up his book. 

He was dressed in full regalia: tight black trousers, white shirt, waistcoat, and cloak. His long blonde hair lay heavily on his shoulders, glinting in the candlelight. He looked astonishing.

Harry was dismayed. “Oh, are you going somewhere…or is this for my benefit?” he added with an attempt at levity.

“No, Mister Potter, this is not for your benefit. I’m going out…on a date.” He left a few seconds for that to sink into Harry’s brain, and then added with a wicked grin, “Don’t wait up.” And with a swirl of his cloak, he was gone.

Harry sat there, gobsmacked.

Lucius was…going out…on a _date_? But what about their bet? Had Lucius given up? Surely he wouldn’t want to pass up on another opportunity to send his young landlord into paroxysms of frustrated desire? 

Harry threw his book to the floor, snapped his wand at the fire to quench the flames, and stormed upstairs to bed…where he lay in the darkness for the next three hours, tossing and turning and trying to pretend he really _was_ trying to go to sleep and not _actually_ waiting to hear Lucius’ footsteps along the corridor.

Finally, with a sigh of frustration, he sprang out of bed, and stomped back downstairs to the library…where he sat, growing increasingly more worried, for a further two hours.

Harry had made a solemn vow that he wouldn’t let the looming presence of Voldemort spoil his life anymore. He and his friends tried to carry on as normal, fitting in the search for the remaining Horcruxes about an ordinary existence. But that wasn’t to say they weren’t all very aware of the danger they were in from both Voldemort and his loyal Death Eaters, and since his defection, Lucius had become a prime target.

By the time he finally heard Lucius come in, Harry was nearly sick with anxiety. He jumped out of his seat in the darkened library and tore open the door.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” he demanded.

Lucius, who had a foot on the bottom step of the stairs, turned and raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware I was under curfew, Mister Potter.”

“You’re not…but I do expect you back at a reasonable time!”

“The reason being?”

Harry glared at him. “I was worried.”

Lucius took his foot off the step and walked to Harry’s side. “Your concern is touching, Harry. But I am well able to take care of myself. And you are not my keeper, you know.” He reached out and caressed Harry’s cheek with one leather-clad palm. “Now, it is very late, and I am off to bed.”

“I know very well how late it is,” Harry stormed, “I’ve just spent the last three hours watching the bloody clock. I just hope she was worth it.”

“I repeat, there is no need for you to worry about me. Now, goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning,” Lucius replied, ignoring Harry’s last comment. He turned and went off up the stairs.

Harry stood and fumed for two minutes before his temper got the better of him. He dashed up the stairs after Lucius and raced along the corridor. Then he stopped outside Lucius’ door and pounded upon it with all his might.

The door flew open so quickly that Harry imagined that Lucius must have been stood just the other side of it.

“Thank the gods it worked, I thought _I_ was going to have to come to _you_ ,” Lucius said huskily.

The next moment, Harry was seized by the lapels of his dressing gown and dragged into the room. “Wha…?” was the last vaguely recognisable word he uttered for some time.

 

****

 

 **Day Six**

 

Harry lay comfortably ensconced on Lucius’ chest, a beatific smile on his face, until a thought intruded into his mind and he frowned.

“Hey!”

“Something horses eat, I believe.”

“…!”

“ _Excuse_ me, Lucius?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“What would I have got if _I’d_ won the bet?”

“Me,” Lucius said succinctly.

“What?” Harry demanded, outraged.

Lucius smiled smugly. “Yes, it was rather a win-win situation on my part.”

“Why you devious….”

Lucius reached for a small black book that was lying on the bedside table; he rapped Harry smartly over the head with it. “Do stop whinging, boy.” He opened the book. “Now, what position were we up to?” 

 

****

 

“Ron, be a love and go and see what’s keeping Harry. If he doesn’t come down for his breakfast soon, it’ll be cold.” Molly Weasley fussed.

Ron got to his feet, snagging a sausage to eat on the way, and trailed off upstairs. A quick glance through the open door revealed that Harry’s room was empty, and Ron was perplexed for a moment before he heard a faint noise.

Groaning, coming from the room he could only assume was Malfoy’s. The evil bastard had got Harry and was torturing him. Ron crept along the corridor and, swallowing hard, grasping his wand with one hand, his courage with the other, he silently pushed open the door to the room where the noises were emanating from.

He was saved from rushing head long into red-faced ignominy by the sudden realisation that the moans were not the product of pain and pleading, but rather of pure pleasure. Ron squeezed his eyes tight shut in an attempt to deny the sight before him, then cautiously crept them open again…just a tad…purely in the interests of scientific research, of course…and because Hermione would be bound to ask questions later. Really, that position just shouldn’t be possible. Ron turned his head through ninety degrees to see if it looked any more possible from that angle…it didn’t. Shaking his head, he backed silently from the door, and equally silently, closed it, thankful that neither of the room’s occupants seemed to have noticed him. Of course, they _had_ been somewhat…preoccupied. 

“D’y think we’ve scarred him for life?” Harry panted.

Lucius laughed. “I certainly hope so!”

 

~Fin~


End file.
